


Witness

by rathernotmyname



Series: Fictober! 2020 [20]
Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Denial of Feelings, F/F, Fictober! Day 20, Idiots in Love, Qwerty lives because I said so, Somewhat, rated T for bad words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:54:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28057218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rathernotmyname/pseuds/rathernotmyname
Summary: What if I was a feral bisexual and you were a clueless lesbian and we loved each other?Haha just kidding - unless..?
Relationships: Darlene Alderson/Dominique DiPierro
Series: Fictober! 2020 [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2050200
Kudos: 10





	Witness

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note:  
> I DO NOT CONSENT TO MY WORK BEING HOSTED OR REPOSTED ON ANY UNOFFICIAL APPS OR WEBSITES OTHER THAN ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN WITHOUT MY APPROVAL, PARTICULARLY APPS WITH AD REVENUE AND SUBSCRIPTION SERVICES.

Dom is mad. 

If air could boil, then it definitely would in her vicinity. Darlene has obviously done her best to remove any offending obstacles out of the room, such as laptops, phones, curling rods and eyeliner pencils, but for some reason, that doesn’t seem to make a dent into Dom’s bad mood.

It’s terrifying to look at, seeing that Darlene’s outbursts are so much more fiery and loud than this mute, boiling anger.

A furious Darlene is easy to handle when you find out what the problem at hand is and why she doesn’t feel up to dealing with it.

A furious Dom is something else, because while it’s very clear what the problem is, it’s often much less clear why it is a problem.

Just like right now.

“You can’t just say that,” she snaps eventually, breaking out of her hard stare at Darlene’s innocent and very confused face.

“What the fuck,” Darlene replies, and nobody can blame her. 

“You can’t just-” Dom tugs her hands through her long hair, “-you can’t just… _yomp_ in and just say that.”

“What, is there a rule against it or something? Like, quote the law at me, babe, I dare you,” Darlene grouses, obviously upset, face contorted into a grimace of puzzled anger.

“Shut up.”

“Which paragraph was that?”

“Oh my God, _shut up!”_

Dom turns on her heel and takes quick, hectic steps to the kitchen counter, taking out ingredients for her grilled mayo-cheese sandwiches, putting them away again after realizing how much her hands shake.

“I don’t give a fuck about the delusions of propriety you seem to have. If I want to say it, then I’m saying it, goddamnit.”

“They are not ‘delusions of propriety’,” Dom snarls, whipping around again and pointing an accusing finger at Darlene. “It’s basic common sense! Did you forget what we are? You can’t just-”

“Oh, fuck this! Of course I can, and I fucking will whenever I fucking want!” Darlene spits, slamming her palm on the table and jumping from her chair, hands curled into fists at her sides. “If you’re too much of a pussy to see it, fine! But I’m not gonna shut my fucking mouth just because you don’t want to believe me!”

Dom seems to deflate. With a long-suffering sigh, she perches on the kitchen counter after pushing the glass of mayonnaise aside. The ceiling lamp throws harsh, yellow light on her, making her face looked washed out, like a tablecloth that was ironed too often.

“I do believe you,” she says after awhile, letting her head tip back, almost colliding with the cooker hood. 

“Then what’s the fucking problem?”

“It’s too much of a risk,” Dom starts, staring at the tiled floor, socked feet dangling against the cabinet handles with low thumping sounds. “I’m still with the FBI, Darlene. And I know you know that. It’s just – it’s not gonna end well for us both.”

Darlene’s face turns an ugly shade of dark red. 

_“Do you think I chose this?!”_ she explodes, stomping through the kitchen and coming to a stop directly in front of Dom, waving her arms and huffing in a vain attempt to hold back the utter fury burning the air around her.

“Do you think my life wouldn’t have been easier if I’d have never met you?! Because it would have, don’t lie to yourself.”

Dom nods, her expression grim. “I know.”

“Yeah. But funnily enough, fate decided to fuck up my shitty life a little more by making you wander into it, making the fucking cupid’s arrows fly like there was no tomorrow, and I couldn’t say shit about it. I never could. God, I wanted to, but I had to face reality at some point.”

“Then why didn’t you try to leave? Find something better?” Dom asks bitterly, folding up into a hurting, defensive ball on her kitchen counter. 

Darlene lets out a hysterical laugh, eyes filling with tears.

“Because, believe it or not, you motherfucker, I FUCKING LOVE YOU!!”

These four words seem to ring around the room for a while, while the two quarrelers face each other, rigid and waiting for the other’s reaction.

Finally, Darlene heaves a laugh that sounds more like a sob, and asks: “So why am I not allowed to say that?”

“Because I’m a coward,” Dom says bluntly. “Because I believe I would never hear that sentence again apart from my family. Because everyone who ever told me that didn’t really mean it in the end. Or at least after spending more than a year with me.”

“Well, I think what we went through counts as more than a year, and it’s still true,” Darlene sniffles, hands finally uncurling, nails having left crescent-shaped marks on her palms.

“That’s great,” Dom chokes out, tears rolling down her smiling face. “Because I love you, too.”

“I know that, you dumbass,” Darlene says, but the tears get going anyway, and then they are embracing so hard that their bones creak. Seconds later they are precariously sitting halfway on the counter, one of Dom’s legs wrapped around Darlene’s waist, both of their hands tangled in the other’s hair, making out as if it’s their last opportunity to do so, whispering the forbidden sentence back and forth like a prayer.

And Elliot?

He stands witness to it all, standing unnoticed in the door of Dom’s bathroom, in one hand some decoration for Qwerty’s new fish tank that he washed in the sink, in the other a roll of toilet paper to wipe up the water he spilled when filling said tank.

Darlene turns around halfway when she hears him nervously shuffle around on the spot, grinning when he looks at them as he was just struck by thunder. Fair, she thinks. Their fights are very… explosive.

“Hey, dude,” she says, and Dom looks over her shoulder and hides a small embarrassed snort in Darlene’s shoulder at poor Elliot’s frightened expression.

“I love you too, Elliot,” Darlene tells him, because she feels generous today. Also, he really needs to hear it more often.

Dom lifts her head up again and tries to give him a reassuring smile. “Me too.”

Elliot blinks at them with his big, sad eyes, corners of his mouth lifting into his tiny, sweet smile that they still see far too seldom.

“Okay,” he says.

**Author's Note:**

> Domlene, yay! Writing them is ,,satisfying, and I don't know why. It just feels right.  
> Oh yeah, this is post "Motionless", so Qwerty lives. Just so you know. I am Still In Denial and Do Not Accept. Elliot needs his fishy friend.  
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
